


Shut up and Drive

by tisfan



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Car Sex, Corsetry, Daisy's Super Underwear, F/M, Penis In Vagina Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Daisy feels safer in Robbie’s car and Robbie’s life than anywhere else… But what the HELL is she wearing under her combat armor?





	Shut up and Drive

Daisy staggered down the ramp of the ‘jet, not really watching where she put her feet. If Robbie hadn’t grabbed her elbow at the last minute, she might have fallen flat on her face.

“Hey, girl,” Robbie said. “You need t’drop by medical?”

“I’m fine,” Daisy said, yanking her arm away, and neatly disproving that theory by wincing. Her chest ached, her hips hurt, her fucking legs felt like she’d been running barefoot on concrete for hours.

Inhumans could often only be combated by other inhumans. Stupid mundanes made it harder for Inhumans to trust anyone, so they didn’t come forward with their abilities, and then something would happen. Something always happened. Terrigenesus was a painful, terrifying process, and then the Inhuman would be attacked or frightened, would lash out like any reasonable thinking creature, and suddenly…

The mundies would be screaming for help because scary scary and well, you fucking caused it, didn’t you?

Which meant SHIELD had been spending months trying to track down Inhumans, trying to protect them from humans, trying to protect humans from them.

And they were hated on both sides.

Half the time, they couldn’t save anyone. She glanced at Robbie. The other half didn’t want to be saved.

She wasn’t sure what Ghost Rider was still doing, hanging around. He wasn’t an Inhuman, his revenge was done and over. He’d gone to hell, come back and dragged Aida with him to hell.

And now he was back. And Daisy had no goddamn idea why.

Except that he made her a little nervous. And a little jittery.

She liked him. And she didn’t like that at all. She’d gotten to the point where she distrusted the hell out of her own instincts. Ward, and then Lincoln; Hive, and then… no, she was better off alone. Better where she couldn’t hurt anyone. And where no one could hurt her.

“Come on, girlfriend,” Robbie was saying, and damnit, she’d almost walked into the wall. Pain was laced up her spine; she was so tired she couldn’t think straight. She hadn’t had coffee in months; her powers were pretty terrible even when she wasn’t jumped up on caffeine. “You need t’ see a doctor.”

She thought the headaches were supposed to go away, eventually.

“I just need a bed, Robbie,” Daisy said, pushing at him. He was hard to push, hard to brush off. Hard to lie to. The Ghost Rider stared out of his eyes sometimes, all judgemental and shit.

“Fine,” Robbie said. And that was weird because Robbie never let her get away with anything, but there they were, right next to the Hell Charger, and how had that even happened. “Get in the car. You can stay at my place and I’m gonna make sure you sleep. Rest. That’s what you need. Which you’re not gonna get if you stay here.”

Which might have been right. Coulson depended on her. Everyone depended on her; she was SHIELD’s best asset in the damn fight, and she needed to be here--

“Watch your head,” Robbie said, and he lightly pushed on the top of her head to get her in the car and sitting down.

As always, sitting in the Hell Charger was like being wrapped up in a hot blanket. The seats were leather, soft and supple. Felt like being cradled by enormous hands. The faintest whiff of sulphur, like a blown-out match. She shouldn’t like it; the demon-fueled car should give her the creeping shudders, but it didn’t. Like the man who drove it, the Hell Charger was a mass of contradictions.

She never felt safer in her life, sitting in the bucket seat, her feet aching to be bare and up on the dash, let the window down and feel the wind in her hair, pump the music up.

Daisy started peeling out of her armor while Robbie drove, that black jacket of his zipped up. There was a bruise on one cheek, but it was already fading; one of the Watchdogs had gotten in a hit before the Rider popped out and charbroiled his ass.

Which Daisy should find horrifying, and not hot.

But maybe it was time to admit some shit.

She did find Robbie hot. She did find the Rider fascinating. And even though she didn’t want to be, she was drawn to both of them. She felt safe in the Hell Charger. She felt safe with the Rider, and she knew for a fact she couldn’t hurt Robbie. Not physically.

And he couldn’t hurt her either.

Not physically.

“Why are you still hanging around?” She wrenched at the buckles on her jacket, threw it into the back seat. Worked at the zippers of her underweave, anti-ballistics shirt; designed by Tony Stark, paid for by deep uncover accounts from Stark Industries, and Daisy only knew that because she was the second best hacker in the world and even Tony Stark couldn’t keep her out forever.

Although, to be fair, Stark probably knew she was poking. And letting her do it, because sometimes you could find out more about a person by letting them look around than you could by trying to tag them yourself. She knew that trap, knew it, and let Stark lull her into a false sense of security _anyway_.

“Huh? You tryin’ to drive me away, girl?” Robbie didn’t take his eyes off the road, even though she knew for a fact it wasn’t necessary. The car might not be alive in the traditional sense of the word, but it was _aware_. “I thought we did good, today.”

It was both disconcerting and natural the way Robbie talked about himself and his Rider. We. Us.

She unlaced her boots, tossed them into the back as well, followed by sticky, sweaty socks.

“You both did great,” Daisy said, and that was just the truth. “Pretty sure I couldn’t drive you away if I wanted to.” She lifted her hips, unzipped her tactical pants and shoved them down around her ankles. She was wearing compression shorts underneath and she could feel the tight stretchy fabric pressed against her skin. She always felt pressed on, these days. Everything she wore was super tight, to keep herself from shaking to pieces.

“So, you don’t want to.”

“No.”

Daisy finished getting her armor rolled down to her hips; it was hot as hell in the Charger (which was appropriate, and she wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, even with the sheen of sweat over her skin) and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What in th’ name of _christ_ are you wearing, and why are you half naked in my car?” Robbie’s eyes did come off the road, suddenly, and he was staring at her, his amber cheeks flushed darker with embarrassment… maybe interest.

Daisy looked down at herself. “Combat corset,” she said, a half-smile tugging up the corner of her mouth. “Jemma designed it.” She lifted an eyebrow. “You can say Christ?”

Robbie lost his flustered look in favor of epic amounts of exasperation. “One, I ain’t a freakin’ vampire. Two, I have a demon inside me; taking the Lord’s name in vain and sendin’ it walking around the block like a hooker’s kinda the devil’s schtick, you know? Three, you still haven’t answered my question about _getting naked in my car_.”

“Everything’s always… pressing on me. I have to be squeezed like a sausage all the time so I don’t break ribs, and my arms, and my spine. I have permanent crease marks on my legs from wearing these damn super girdles all the time.” Daisy took a deep breath -- even with the corset on, she felt more relaxed than she had in the last week -- and didn’t look at Robbie. “I feel safe here. Like… there’s no pressure. Like I don’t have to be squished just to function.”

“Here?”

“With you,” she clarified. “In the car, too. But mostly, just with you.” She let her hand drift down, rested on the gear shift.

A moment later, Robbie put his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah, girl,” he said. “I hear that. That’s… that’s why. Why I’m stayin’. Why I stick around. You make me feel… normal. Like I ain’t, since this happened. You give me somethin’ to hold on to, when the world’s gone to hell.”

She knew it wasn’t the world, but Robbie himself that had gone to hell and come back with vision that was both clearer and somehow more horrible. She leaned in to kiss him, meant it to land on his cheek, to be comfort and affection and--

Missed.

Maybe it was that he turned his head at the last second, or that she really actually wanted to kiss his mouth, to taste that fire and see if she’d be burned by it.

Her lips met his and her eyes widened with the shuddering shock of it, and then she let her eyelids flutter closed and went for it.

In that moment, when Robbie leaned into it, one arm going around her shoulders to pull her closer, he became her entire world for the space of one kiss. His lips parted, his tongue slid inside her mouth, and she let herself fall into it. His mouth was strong, lips thin against hers, and he worked his tongue inside her mouth with purpose.

“Woah,” she said, pulling back a little. “That was… unexpected.” She couldn’t help but touch her own mouth with her fingertips, checking to see if the heat of him had hurt her in any way, but everything was normal.

Except that her whole world had just been turned upside down.

“I’m sorry,” Robbie said, and he looked back at the road. “I--”

“No, it’s… it was nice.”

Robbie snorted. “Nice? Then I ain’t doin’ it right.”

A flame of wanting licked at her spine. “Yeah? Then _do it right_.”

Robbie’s expression grew sly. Seductive. “You asked for it, girlfriend,” he said, and it was a threat and a warning and a desperate plea all at once. He reached for her, and she let him take her hand. He yanked.

The world looked very different straddling his thighs, the steering wheel of the Hell Charger at her back, moving itself with precision. The world seemed somehow darker. More dangerous and exciting. She squirmed to get herself comfortable, felt the molten heat of him baking out through his road leathers.

Robbie’s hands were on the back of her neck, the small of her back, pulling her down to kiss. “You ready for this?”

“Shut up and drive,” Daisy scoffed.

And she kissed him. Kissed him like she was dying and he was the cure for everything. He kissed her back like she was the touch of sunlight he’d been missing. They kissed and kissed, devouring each other. Eager, needy, wanton and willing.

Kissed like coming home.

Like the first and last and only.

Daisy’s breath came faster, each little gasp of air impossibly loud inside the car, which drove on without concern for whatever the humans were doing -- or maybe absolute care, since the Hell Charger didn’t hit a single pothole, didn’t miss a single green light. Drove like it wanted nothing more than for them to have everything they needed, that it _approved_. A voyeur and a second lover, and a protector.

Robbie’s hands came up to cup her breasts, letting the weight of them rest against his palms and Daisy arched backward. The wheel pressed into her back, gentle and comforting.

How strange it was, to feel so safe, so much joy, at being so powerless. She’d given up everything to the car, to the man, to the Rider. He could do anything he wished with her, and she’d let him, and gladly. Anything to ease the burning need between her legs, the pain in her chest, the way her heart hurt all the time.

Robbie soothed her with his kisses, stroked the fire with his hands, banked it with each roll of his hips against her.

She writhed, feeling the hard length of him underneath his leather pants. She was whining, straining, and there was no relief to be had. She pushed up, scrambled with her compression shorts, which were impossible to get on and off in the best of circumstances. Hell, she got them on with a pair of boot hooks and a half bottle of talcum powder on a good day, how the hell was she supposed to get them off while in a car?

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Hold still.”

Robbie put his hands on her hips -- no, on the shorts -- and he ignited. The skull of the Rider stared at her, looked into her soul.

And smiled.

She didn’t scream when her shorts caught fire.

The heat barely brushed her skin, like wrapping her hands around a mug of coffee. Hot, but not painful.

She reveled in her newfound delight. Her body knew what to do. She rocked down, grinding against the leather, her bare skin relishing the feel of him against her.

“I want, I want--” Robbie was saying, and he was back, the Rider pushed aside again.

“Take it,” she said.

“I can’t go slow,” he protested, staring up at her as if this was some crime he was confessing to.

“I don’t want slow,” she told him, clear. She bit his neck, harsh and leaving teethprints on the tawny skin. “I want you to fuck me. Here in your car. With every bit of you.”

Robbie let out a deep, throaty groan. He lifted up, pushing his leathers down and they were then skin on skin. He shoved at the corset, yanking at the fabric until her breasts were squeezed out the top. When his mouth closed over the tip, sucking her into the wet inferno of his mouth, Daisy threw her head back and screamed.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful,” Robbie murmured against her skin. She was swaying from side to side, her hands gripped onto his shoulders, barely able to hold her head straight. Spasms of pure pleasure were shooting through her body with precision aim.

His motioned were uncontrolled, jerky, as he wrestled with the corset, and she had some pity for him, but she also didn’t want him to scorch that off, because getting fitted for the damn thing had been a pain. She squirmed until she caught the hooks under one arm and started unsnapping them for him, baring her to his sight.

His skin was on fire, body burning up for Daisy’s touch. She felt a surge of power, knowing she’d reduced him to this. Got her hand on the jacket zipper and yanked it down. He struggled out of the leathers, and each motion of his body rubbed him against her. By the time they were mostly naked, Daisy had reached the end of her already limited patience.

She spread her knees as far as she could inside the confines of the Hell Charger, felt his thick cock against her belly. She wanted, wanted, and she took him. Raising up, she rubbed against him until she got them lined up, felt the head of his cock slide into her; an inch, just a little, barely a tease.

She knew he wanted her, could see it in every line in his face, the way his eyes were half-glazed and yet he couldn’t look away from her. She could barely stand to look at him, each motion of his mouth set her need burning higher. She arched back and then impaled herself on that dick.

He writhed under her, moaning and she knew that he was mad for her, just as crazy as she was.

The only sound she could make was his name. Her hands reached back, gripped the steering wheel, which held itself steady for her, even though she could feel the car moving beneath them -- she had no idea where they were going, only that they had to get there, had to, had to…

“Robbie!”

He moved in her, working magic with hips and dick and fingers. His rhythm was deliberate and slow, surging with the car’s movement, like an errant heartbeat. With each thrust, he drew a gasp from her lips, and with each moan, the perfect pitch of her voice spurred him to greater efforts.

His hand was on her, working her with his fingers, while she rode him. It was difficult and uncomfortable and perfect and wonderful all at the same time. She couldn’t get enough of the way he touched her, couldn’t stand any moment that her lips weren’t on his, couldn’t hear anything but the way he cried her name, couldn’t taste anything but his skin.

He moaned her name, and she screamed his. She clenched up, her entire body spasming around him as each muscle pulled to its tightest and then relaxed all at once. She went limp in his lap, clinging to him with shuddering sobs. She clutched at his shoulders and he drove up into her, again, and again, and-- One more powerful thrust and then he was shuddering with it, spilling himself into her, and she was nearly oblivious to everything except her own release.

He took her mouth in one last, searing kiss.

Darkness surrounded them, and Daisy let herself raise her head. “Where are we?”

“The garage,” Robbie said, huffing a laugh against her skin. “Charger took us right where we needed t’ be, with a little privacy for bonus.”

Daisy reached out behind her and stroked the dash, her hand as gentle and affectionate as if the car itself was her lover. “Thank you.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow at her. “What about some thanks for me, girlfriend? I was doin’ all th’ work here.”

“You already got yours,” Daisy reminded him. She climbed out of his lap with a grimace, her feet bare against the dirty concrete of the garage floor.

“Yeah,” Robbie said, smirking. “An’ if I’m real lucky, I might get some again.”

“Oh, I don’t think luck’s what you need.”

“Oh yeah?”

The door from the garage led right into the house. Daisy didn’t bother to gather up her clothes. She just looked back over her shoulder, watching him watch her walk. “Come get it.”

Turned out, the path from the garage to the bed was further than they made it a second time.

The couch didn’t mind.


End file.
